


Studies in the Art of Reciprocation

by cowboylakay



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Demisexual Jeff Winger, Episode: S01e08 Home Economics, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboylakay/pseuds/cowboylakay
Summary: Jeff walks in on Abed one day and has a realisation.
Relationships: Abed Nadir/Jeff Winger
Kudos: 46





	Studies in the Art of Reciprocation

When Jeff walked in on Abed with another man, it had been an accident.

There was a period of time in their first year where Jeff stayed over at Abed’s for a week, until Britta dropped a handcrafted metal faucet on his stomach (which hurt) and reminded him of how he’s a douchebag at his core (which also hurt). It wasn’t planned, not by a long-shot, but he found that he actually liked it there. Abed’s dorm room was simple, in the way most dorm rooms are, but complex, in the way Abed is complex.

It was homely. There were posters on walls and figurines on shelves and DVDs displayed with utmost reverence, along with props from movies and shows that Jeff found himself staring at when he wasn’t watching TV. There were knickknacks and toys strewn across the room, along with things Abed had called fidget toys on more accessible shelves. There was the TV itself, and a couch against the wall in front of the door, and then the bunk bed.

The bunk bed reminded Jeff of when he was a younger teenager, sleeping over at his friend Benny’s place when his brother was gone. He’d taken the bottom bunk then, too, and they would talk for hours past midnight without having to look at each other. He’d told Benny a lot of things, and Benny had told him a few things too, and they’d never spoken of it again come morning. He recalled that as the first time he told anyone he might like boys.

He’d kept that as a secret, even after Benny and his family moved back to Pakistan and he never saw him again. It was safe guarded in his heart, not out of shame, but because it was special to him. He knew he liked women, and that was what the world saw of him, but liking men was different, more personal, more out of the norm for him. It had been put on a special pedestal in his heart that he cleaned and dusted every time he had a passing interest in men. It didn’t come often, neither did liking women if he looked at it deeply enough, but when it did, he never expected it.

Which is why he’d been surprised that day when he came home (home, being Abed’s dorm room, and isn’t that a strangely comforting idea?) and saw Abed pushing a pretty, dark-haired man up against one of the only free walls of the dorm, lips locked on his throat and hand disappearing under his shirt. He vaguely remembers yelping and immediately shutting the door again, staring at it for a few short minutes before he walked the opposite direction he first came from all the way to his car.

He’d sat there with a mind running miles ahead of him, a mess of jumbled thoughts going through his head until he took a deep breath and set to organising his thoughts.

Firstly, this was  _not_ how he expected his day would go. It wasn’t that he was disgusted, far from it, because he knew there’s nothing wrong with liking men. In fact, he might even say he was happy that Abed understood. Liking men wasn’t something he felt shame for, and knowing that he was around other people that felt the same way made him feel good.

Secondly, he knew he had to go back there at some point and apologise for walking in on them. He’d personally hate to have been walked in on, especially by a roommate who only moved in recently. He could only hope that Abed wasn’t too mad at him, and that he’ll have to make up for it, even if he was disappointed.

Thirdly, it was exactly that— he was disappointed. That particular thought was, as Troy would say, wrinkling his brain, confusing him and asking him more questions than he had answers to. He didn’t know why he’d been disappointed, or why for a half-second he’d been curious about what Abed was doing, or why he’d felt a twinge of envy when Abed’s full attention had been on the dark-haired man, or why he’d been thinking about the way Abed’s hands wandered and dipped lower into the hemlines, or why he’d been thinking about what it would be like if Abed treated him with that kind of attentiveness.

_ Oh, _ he thought.  _ Okay. _

He doesn’t think about Abed like that again for a while, even after he comes back to the dorm an hour later and apologises to Abed, even after Abed gives him a strange look and tells him that the guy left soon after, even after he apologises again and Abed tells him that he asked him to leave. He doesn’t think about it after he moves out, even when Abed volunteers to help him move into a new apartment while wearing the shortest shorts he’s seen anyone wear, even as he watches Abed move boxes around with relative ease as if he isn’t built like a branch, even when Abed asks him with that same strange look if he needed anything else, and looks at him with that look even after those moments.

He doesn’t think about it until three weeks later, when it’s just him and Abed in the study room and he says, “Jeff, I’m interested in you.”

“What?” Jeff asks, an instinctive response. Abed’s words register, then the sincere confusion. “Wait, really? Why?”

“I hope you’re not looking for a compliment, because I’m not sure either. I just do, have been for a while now.” He shrugs almost nonchalantly, and had it not been for the stiffness of his shoulders and the way he’s playing with a rubber band, Jeff could’ve mistaken him for casual.

“Oh,” Jeff says, at a loss for words. He looks down at the table and thinks about the last few weeks, thinks back on all the things that struck him as odd about Abed (outside of his general weirdness, of course.) “I think I am too. Interested in you, I mean.”

“That’s fine, because I don’t know what I—” Abed pauses. “Wait, you are? That’s not what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect me to say?” Jeff asks, only so he could lead it up to a lighthearted joke as an escape from what’s likely becominga very personal conversation.

Abed glances away from him before looking back, not exactly at his eyes because Abed hardly ever does that, but in his general direction that Jeff knows he’s paying full attention to him. “That you’re straight, and that you don’t like me in that way, and that you’re uncomfortable with knowing I like you. That was the script I had written out in my head.”

“I’m not straight,” Jeff blurts out, feeling some sort of satisfaction when Abed’s eyes widen even more and feeling dread at how casually he’d said it. “I don’t know what I’d call myself, but I’m not straight. I like women, but I also like men. And, well, whatever David Bowie and Grace Jones had going on.”

“Oh,” Abed says, looking then at Jeff’s chest. “I’m not sure what to say to that. I’ve never really talked to anyone like this before.”

“Me neither. I’ve never gotten this far,” Jeff tells him, then Annie arrives, and the conversation is forgotten for the time being.

Two more weeks pass, and the conversation is still at the forefront of Jeff’s mind. Abed had admitted to being interested in him, and he’d effectively said the same, yet here he is in his apartment, nursing a glass of scotch and staring blankly at the ceiling. He’d been in committed relationships before, but only with women, and they had all been different types of unfulfilling. He thought he’d loved them at the time, but as time passed and their relationship progressed, so did his feelings. What he’d thought was love had been infatuation, or physical attraction, or even platonic love that looked too similar to romantic love.

This time feels different. He knows he loves Abed as his friend, but his other feelings for him feel separate yet connected at the same time. He wants to talk to him about things, not because he’s interested about the topics, but because he likes the sound of his voice. He wants to hold Abed’s hand, even though he usually hates when people try to do that with him. He wants to kiss Abed.

He really wants to kiss Abed.

His phone rings, and as if summoned by his thoughts, it’s Abed.

“Hello?” He answers, looking at the clock. “Abed? It’s ten, why are you calling?”

_“Hey, Jeff. Sorry, are you busy?”_ Abed’s grainy voice asks.

“No, I’m not. Just sitting here. Why, what’s up?”

There’s a long-enough silence after his question that makes Jeff wonder if Abed had heard him the first time, until Abed says, _“Could I come over? I want us to talk.”_

Despite the instinctive panic that rises in his throat when he hears those last words, he says, “Yeah, sure. Do you need me to pick you up?”

_“Um, no,”_ Abed says, the hesitation evident in his voice, _“I’m kind of outside your apartment already. So, could you just let me in?”_

Jeff gets up from the couch, setting the glass and his phone down on the coffee table as he walks over to the door. He opens it and sees Abed still holding his phone to his ear, looking up at him and ending the call when he sees Jeff.

“You couldn’t have just knocked?” Jeff asks, a small smile on his face as he looks Abed up and down. He’s dressed in the same t-shirt and cardigan combo, except he’s wearing sweatpants rather than jeans. He can count on one hand how many times he’d seen Abed in sweatpants and still have enough fingers left over to use his phone.

Abed sort-of smiles at him, looking at his face. “I thought it would be more polite to warn you first. Plus, it’s harder to back out of talking to you on a phone call.”

Jeff steps aside to let Abed in, who glances at the living room. There had only been one new change since Jeff moved in, which was the blanket on the couch from when Jeff felt too tired to go all the way to his bedroom and crashed on his couch instead. He looks at Jeff then, who gestures to the couch. They go over to take a seat, then Jeff asks, “What did you wanna talk about?”

“I wanted to talk about us,” Abed says, straight to the point even as Jeff can hear the slight waver in his voice. He gets it, honestly. He feels the same way. “I like you. I’ve told you this before.”

“Yes,” Jeff says.

“And you like me. You told me this before, too.”

“I do.” Jeff glances away for a second, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “I know I like you, now. I was still a bit unsure before, because I didn’t know if I was into you like that. But I’m sure now.”

“That’s good,” Abed says, pleased. “I’m not sure how real relationships really work outside of what TV is telling me works, but I want to try. With you. If you’d like that.”

Jeff doesn’t really have to think about it. “Yeah, I want to try too. I’ve never really done this before either. I mean, I’ve had relationships, but I’ve never felt this way about them. It’s... different. _You’re_ different.”

“I get what you mean.” Abed leans back, neck resting on the backrest. “I’ve only ever had sex. Romantic relationships, and romance in general, are unknown to me. People never really wanted that part with me, so I never got to figure it out. Until you, I guess.”

“You’re kind of my first too, I think. That’s okay.” Jeff reaches over, offering his hand. “I’d like to have that with you, if that’s okay.”

Abed takes his hand, smiling like he did when they first met. Jeff finds that he likes it when Abed smiles. “Cool.” He tucks their joined hands against the couch. “Cool, cool, cool.”

Jeff puts on a movie not long after that, and they end up falling asleep on the couch, not too dissimilar from when Jeff used to live with him, but with the new development of Abed being tucked under his chin and with his hand in his.

I’ll kiss him tomorrow, he thinks.  As long as he lets me.

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> nothing better than a little mindless fluff amirite lads?
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
